As the World Falls Down
by KungFu-SuperTonic
Summary: It was their need that brought them together for those fleeting moments at the darkest hour of night. And it was their cycle of addiction that pushed them away from each other, allowing them to repeat it all over again.


Disclaimer: So I was actually listening to Take Me to the Riot by stars during this (just 'cause another fanfiction mentioned it.) You will see that there are about 2 lines from the song that I've used in here? Besides those lines and the world of naruto, kakashi and Sakura who are property of Masashi Kishimoto, much of everything else (hopefully) is me.

So I'm not too sure how I feel about this fanfiction so far. I tried to convey the desperation of being broken and unstable, but the story is a bit short and abrupt… Anyway enjoy. Hopefully I did well enough.

Rated T for suggestive themes otherwise this is relatively safe.

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No.  
I don't.  
I hate you.  
I miss you.  
I am what I've done.  
I'm sorry for the way that I am.  
That this was necessary.  
But you won't even look back,  
no muttered excuse,  
no forward apology.  
So sanctimonious,  
that you can declare whatever you want  
and expect me to crawl and undo what you have done.  
No.  
I truly don't care,  
And I truly do.  
Trying to avoid you that in the end all I ever think about is you.  
Sorry that I refuse to give in.  
Memories and feelings so fleeting  
that they melt away to dreams.  
I can barely remember…  
So heartless, so devoid.  
Sometimes I feel like I don't know how to truly love.  
Treating you so horribly...  
Sorry for what I am.

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It's a chilly night… but she doesn't close the window where the moon shines through. She never closes her cracked window, confident enough to be able to ward off unwanted guests, she likes to wake up to the cold. No one knows why, not even her.

The room in tinted in a cold blue hue during this darkest hour, just before morning conquers the sky again. The twilight is fleeting, just like everything else in this world.

She shifts and she's noticed, even though it's absolutely silent, even though it's unbearably dark. She murmurs into that darkness. Sentences directed towards the gently billowing curtains to the right- at him but not to him- she still faces the ceiling. She sits up reluctantly and yet, still so sensually. It is in her essence to be beautiful, physically beautiful, but it is also her job. He wonders how much of it is natural and how much of it was practice… The sheets spill into her lap… He sighs, not that it matters.

She looks to window, never at him but through him; this is her acknowledgment and her wordless invitation. He takes a step in, holding the frame with his right hand as he ducks under her broken window. His hair and his eyes catching the light and glinting as he looks up from his bent position, menacing, he takes another step forward. Each soft step on the carpeted floor is a hiss into the quiet room. She follows him across the room with her senses: he is standing tall, operating on adrenaline; he smells sharp and metallic, covered in someone else's blood; his open mouth breath across her cheek, he is already at the foot of her bed. His silhouette is leaning onto her bed with one knee. Hands planted on either side of her legs as he hovers above her face, looking down and she stares back wide eyed.

She is his prey, and he wants to devour her completely. He wants to suck on her calloused, delicate finger tips; he wants lick his way up her neck; he wants to feel her lips tremble as he bites into them until they bleed… He eats her up with his eyes.

Her hands ghost up his face lightly brushing his eyes on their path to his blade colored hair. He closes his hungry eyes and she wants to put him back together. She wants to heal his bruises; she wants to cure all of his physical and emotional scars; she wants mend his fraying psychological condition, but only because it's in her nature and from her training. It's only because she can't help herself either. She wants to fix him back to normal, but he's been broken for much longer than she thinks or can remember. He is **sick** in all senses.

Her lips form words, but he doesn't seem to care at all.

She falls backwards as he collapses onto her, into the uncertainty that is their relationship. Into the dark corner of her room and onto the sheets that feel like they took forever to meet. They pray no one ever has to see them fall; fall like this onto each other, away from society and it's standards.

This is the only way she knows how to embrace him. This is the only way she knows how to ease his pain. And this is the only thing he knows how to do after coming back from Hell. This is the only way he knows how to gather just enough pieces to be in functioning order.

No one's there to see their fall from grace. No one's there to hear the telling silken whispers of her sheets. No one's there to feel the tension fill the air as he mindlessly ionizes it. No one's there to judge their unacceptable and desperate relationship as he grabs her pink hair.

She wonders if they're just using each other. She's not quite sure if it's because his one eye resembles the boy she **used** love once upon a time… or if it's because they need to indulge in this sin to forget all their others. Makes no difference, she pulls him closer to her. He pulls away from her instead.

Light is approaching soon and he slips from her and her disarrayed bed. Doesn't even wait for her to fall asleep… he climbs back under the window. With out looking back he leaves, even though the surface is transparent. He is running away from her and their consistent mistakes, running away before sanity dawns on them. Before they can come to their senses and they gain some semblance of normalcy. They are running away so they can repeat it all over again.


End file.
